Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her. ‘I think that was what began his downfall. " "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment.
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